


Holy Hands, Oh They Make Me a Sinner

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Series: Heaven Need a Sinner [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: As if he could read Faraday’s thoughts, Vasquez grinned – a wide, coyote’s smile – and settled his weight across Faraday's hips, broad palms pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side. He rocked forward, the hard line of him sliding tantalizingly against Faraday, hot and electric and altogether too intimate, like always.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. Sometimes you're just quietly baffling over your AO3 inbox at work when the very lovely **greatdisorder** links you to [a frankly perfect Faraday/Vasquez song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5jz8xdpR0M) and then the next thing you know you've written 1500 words of porn on company time, and at that point it just seems silly not to finish it out.
> 
> This started off in a weird, quasi-angsty place and wound up somewhere much more sappy and bittersweet. Just, you know, so you're aware.
> 
> Also, I initially had very high hopes of responding to the totally humbling, absolutely life-affirming comments y'all have left me over the past twenty-four hours, but alas, it is very late and I am very tired. You're all wonderful, and I promise you that your comments mean more the me than I can say, and that I will get back to you all tomorrow, ASAP. The next chapter of Thread, String, Rope will be up within the next few days. 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this helping of porn. Not beta-read, because of the aforementioned lateness and tiredness, but hopefully still a nice saucy read, even so.
> 
> Double extra thanks to **greatdisorder** for so thoroughly hijacking my brain! ;)
> 
> Translations are at the end.

_Shut your mouth, baby, stand and deliver._  
_Holy hands, oh, they make me a sinner._  
_Like a river, like a river,_  
_Shut your mouth and run me like a river._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Faraday had been chin-high to the tall grass, his mama used to say he had the Devil in his blood.  
  
"It's the Irish in you," she would utter, wiping dirt from his face and dressing his bruises, eyes going dark as her thoughts turned toward his father, whose parting had not been kind. "Damnable tempers, the whole lot. But we'll settle you yet, baby, don't you fret."  
   
She'd meant well, Faraday figured, but work was long and consumption a wily, bitter enemy. Eventually, despite her best efforts, it had been Faraday alone with whatever dark fiend he carried within him.

He didn't mind it so much. It kept him safe, that dark spirit, suspicious and mistrustful though it may have been. He settled down alongside it throughout all the long, lonely nights of his childhood until one day, he looked in the mirror and there was no beast at all, just him; some strange mix of the boy his mother loved and the creature she'd been afraid to see him become.  
  
If Faraday had the Devil in him, Vasquez was something wilder, stranger; one of the old gods of fable, so sly and quick that you wouldn't see the trick coming until you were flat on your back, mocking laughter echoing into the night all around you.  
  
As if he could read Faraday’s thoughts, Vasquez grinned – a wide, coyote’s smile – and settled his weight across Faraday's hips, broad palms pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side. He rocked forward, the hard line of him sliding tantalizingly against Faraday, hot and electric and altogether too intimate, like always.  
  
They'd fallen together again more times than Faraday could count - quick, dirty asides, both of them sweaty and sun-drenched after long hours of outfitting the town with traps; slow, lazy couplings late in the evening, neither of them drunk enough to play it off as anything at this point but a matter of personal preference. Since that first night, something had been crackling to life between them that Faraday wasn't sure how to identify.

It left him wrong-footed at odd moments, laughing too loudly at Vasquez's jokes or thoroughly distracted by the serious calm in his face when he ought to be minding other things. It made it nearly impossible to keep his head with Vasquez looming, warm and familiar, over top of him.  
  
Faraday shifted and bucked his hips up, but Vasquez just laughed, swaying with the motion like he was riding a bull. The affectionate curl of his smirk made Faraday's chest go tight, pinched and over-full. He bucked up again and Vasquez leaned into it, bending down to capture Faraday's mouth with his own.  
  
The kiss burned, hot and possessive, Vasquez digging his fingers just a little too hard into Faraday's wrists.  
  
"What's wrong?" Vasquez asked, low and amused, words warm against Faraday's cheek.  
  
"Nothin'," Faraday growled mulishly. Vasquez snorted, dragging his teeth along the line of Faraday's jaw.  
  
"Something," he disagreed. He bit gently at Faraday's earlobe and Faraday shivered. "Bogue?"  
  
The black-hearted bastard was set to descend on Rose Creek come dawn. According to Red Harvest he was riding with an army at his back, the unholy coward, and they were a man down, now that a certain turncoat Cajun had shown his true colors, which put their odds closer to a losing hand than Faraday liked.

Generally speaking, Faraday had never had very strong opinions about death. It happened to everyone, eventually, and he much preferred to spend his time enjoying life rather than worrying about when that grim specter might come to call. If there was a small, newly unearthed part of him that found it deeply unfair that he should stumble into this thing, this whatever-it-was with Vasquez, with his almost certain demise so close at hand, Faraday didn’t see fit to mention it.  
  
"No," he said with a sigh. "Not Bogue."  
  
Vasquez hummed and leaned in to kiss him again, soft and sweet, rocking their hips together with a gentleness that sent fire up Faraday's spine at a slow, syrupy crawl. Faraday groaned. He could feel Vasquez grinning as he licked his way tenderly past Faraday's teeth, the rasping drag of their scruff making Faraday's belly swoop.  
  
"What, then?" Vasquez pressed, their noses brushing, and Faraday's temper flared a little.  
  
"Why can't it be nothing?" he snapped, digging his teeth into Vasquez's full lower lip and grinning when Vasquez hissed.  
  
"I know you better than that," he murmured insistently, in the gravel-rough register he dropped into whenever they were knocking boots, or on the occasion that Faraday was being willfully dim-witted. He pulled away a little and dragged his tongue across his lip, over the irritated swell where Faraday had bitten him.  
  
Faraday snorted.  
  
"Maybe you don't," he mumbled sullenly, and closed his eyes when Vasquez kissed him again. It was a bluff, and Vasquez likely knew it, could probably feel it in the way Faraday tensed and released beneath him, torn between fighting and letting go.  
  
"I thought," Vasquez said lowly, shifting his grip and sliding his fingers between Faraday's, smirking when Faraday instinctively mirrored his grasp, "we were past this."  
  
"Past what?" Faraday asked benignly, looking up and summoning his most confident grin. Vasquez studied him for a long moment, something warm and heavy in his gaze that made a knot rise in Faraday's throat, before he sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Me gustaría que me dejaras decirte," he murmured wistfully, pressing a line of searing kisses across Faraday's collarbone. "Creo que ayudaría."  
  
"Why _always_ with the Mexican shit?" Faraday grumbled, tilting his head to give Vasquez a wider span to work with.  
  
"It's Spanish, querido," he chuckled, nuzzling down Faraday’s throat. He bit at Faraday's collarbone and then laved his tongue across the spot. "You want to understand? _Learn._ ” He sucked a dark mark on Faraday’s chest, murmured against his skin, “I’ll teach you."  
  
"Or you could just talk English at me," Faraday offered, tilting his hips up to meet Vasquez as he rolled his forward.

"Qué habría de divertido en eso?" Vasquez asked with a wicked little chuckle.  
  
He pushed up and rolled his hips again, bowing over Faraday like a cat, his whole back one lean, sloping curve. Faraday gasped and tried his damnedest to buck up into the contact, but Vasquez refused to be thrown. He had Faraday very handily pinned to the bed-sheets, splayed out like some rare creature he intended to study.  
  
He was watching Faraday intently, something hazy and warm in his face that made Faraday's hackles rise, the beast in him warning him away from danger. Faraday screwed his eyes shut and Vasquez kissed him, close-mouthed, so gentle that it made Faraday's chest hurt.  
  
"No vayas," he soothed, voice a low hum, and kissed Faraday again. He cupped a hand around Faraday’s jaw, thumb following the line of Faraday’s cheekbone. "Quedaté conmigo."  
  
Faraday felt flayed open, ribs spread wide and heart exposed. He surged up into the kiss and swallowed the words down, desperate to pull them out of the room so they couldn't linger in the air, sticky-sweet like smoke off of molasses. There was something in Vasquez’s tone, in the way he looked at Faraday, and the way he touched, that was too big and all consuming for Faraday to approach head-on.

The animal parts of Faraday - the wild things in him that urged him to bite where he should play dead, the skittish things that never let him settle too long in any one place - they knew that what was warm at a distance had the potential to burn up close, and warned him off getting any nearer. The more human parts longed for it with an intensity that surprised him – a bone-deep want that Faraday hadn’t been able to shake no matter how much he flirted or how long he drank.

He didn't quite know how to define it, to describe it, to explain it. With all his vocabulary tied up inside of him, too tangled to parse out, every word out of Vasquez felt damning, especially the ones he was freer with, the ones that Faraday knew the shape of but couldn't understand. It was like Vasquez had been imbued with some mythic power, the ability to speak and make it so.  
  
It made Faraday dizzy to think on, like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, only nobody had told him yet that he'd already started to fall.  
  
Faraday tugged one of his hands free of Vasquez's grasp and slipped his arm around the other man's back, thumb settling sweetly into one of the notches along his spine. He rutted up and Vasquez groaned at the slide of their cocks slipping together between their bellies, a little too dry yet to be really good.  
  
"Guero," he breathed, "que te - "

Faraday pulled him in again, licking the words out of his mouth, swallowing down whatever strange magic might be in them and using Vasquez's distraction to work up enough momentum to flip their positions. Vasquez landed heavy against the mattress with a discomfited grunt, both his hands going to Faraday's hips instinctively, steadying him so that he didn't fall off the side.  
  
"What are you - " he tried again, a cold thread of concern in his tone. Faraday shook his head, made a little animal noise in the back of his throat, and ducked in again.

He kissed viciously, sliding his free hand up to tangle it in Vasquez’s dark curls. He felt beastly – wanted to bite, and tear, and claw until the humming warmth between them had been stoked into a roaring flame. Vasquez curled his broad palms over Faraday’s hips and met him blow for blow, slowing the pace and gentling the angle at every turn, deep and smooth and calming, like water in the dark.

Faraday bent over him, shifting forward a little so that Vasquez’s cock was underneath him, sliding along the cleft of his ass while he rocked and swayed into the kiss. Vasquez growled into his mouth and thrust up into the contact.

They hadn’t done it since that first time, Faraday too sore the day immediately after to do more than sob and shake while Vasquez worked him slowly to completion on his oil-slick fingers. He canted his hips and rocked back, wincing at the too-dry drag and kissing Vasquez all the while, wet and a little sloppy.

“Querido,” Vasquez murmured against his mouth, “you want –”

Faraday hummed his assent, groping around on the wooden nightstand for the bottle they had taken to stashing there.

“Yes,” he breathed, a desperate little gasp of a word, and pressed it into Vasquez’s hand. He felt like he was going to shake apart.

Vasquez uncapped the bottle with his teeth, spitting the stopper out onto the floor without bothering to worry about where it landed. He poured some of the oil messily into his hand and reached between them, Faraday shifting obligingly up onto his knees.

He groaned in the back of his throat as Vasquez slipped the first finger in, cupping his face in both hands and biting brutally at his mouth. Vasquez hissed, doing his best to temper Faraday’s savagery though his attention was split between tasks. He pressed a kiss to Faraday’s jaw and worked a second finger in alongside the first, scissoring them slowly and smirking when Faraday groaned at the delicious pressure. He pushed back into it, angling his hips, and was rewarded when Vasquez curled his fingers just so, catching on that spot that lit up inside him like a fuse, and incendiary bolt of desire.

“Eres bonito, querido,” Vasquez said, trailing tiny, messy kisses along Faraday’s cheek. “Tan bonito.”

The heady warmth in Faraday’s chest sparked and thrummed. He tugged at Vasquez’s hair and growled desperately, wanting.

Vasquez withdrew his fingers and Faraday sucked a breath through his nose, waiting a few bare seconds for Vasquez to give himself a cursory pass with the oil left on his hand before he reached down. He got a hand around the base of Vasquez’s cock, lining it up and taking a moment to breath before he let himself sink slowly down onto it, rocking up and down with his thighs while he worked himself lower.

Vasquez’s fingers twitched and flexed against his hips, and he watched with something rapturous in his face as Faraday sank down, eyes falling closed like he couldn’t bear to see it when Faraday sat flush.

They were still for a long second, Faraday allowing himself to get used to the feeling, Vasquez running his palms soothingly up Faraday’s sides, long smooth strokes that he didn’t seem to be aware of. His eyes were dark and full of that indefinable warmth, something tender tucked into the soft edge of his smile. The pressure in Faraday’s chest swelled and he braced his palms against the flat plane of Vasquez’s stomach, carefully starting to move.

He rocked gently back and forth, Vasquez biting his lip with the effort to keep from rolling his hips up into it.

“ _Maldita_ ,” he grumbled low, heavy with feeling. Faraday huffed a laugh and picked himself up on his thighs a little, slowly sinking back down. Vasquez hissed a breath, rocking up into it, and Faraday smirked.

He might not have the words in him, but this he could do, bend his body to illustrate the strange and wild notions that tied his tongue in knots. He’d always been better with his hands anyway.

He dipped his head down and kissed Vasquez again, close-mouthed, trying to gather every inexpressible feeling battling for attention within him and push them out past his teeth. Vasquez sighed – sweet and easy – and reached up to slide his fingers through the sweat-dampened curls at the nape of Faraday’s neck. Faraday rocked back and forth and Vasquez moved with him, the two of them carving out a rhythm that sent white heat rolling in slow waves out through Faraday’s fingers and toes every time they shifted.

Vasquez kissed him over and over again, little crushing presses of his mouth. Faraday let him set the pace for a few long moments that seemed to ebb and stretch, creeping slowly forward like thick ropes of honey.

He felt Vasquez swallow, and then the other man breathed hoarsely, hesitantly, “Querido, tomorrow, if we –”

Faraday shook his head and cut Vasquez off with a kiss, a frantic spark of fear alighting behind his sternum. He licked at the seam of Vasquez’s mouth, worked his tongue between his parted lips until they were both gasping, Vasquez pulling on his hair just hard enough that it hurt.

Faraday rocked his hips faster, Vasquez rising up to meet him, groaning and cursing, voice too low for Faraday to pick out the words. A bright, white wave of desire rolled through him with every thrust.

Faraday hefted himself up and sank back down, over and over again, until his whole body was quivering with the effort while Vasquez bucked desperately up underneath him. He dragged Faraday down for a kiss, harder and meaner than he normally preferred, teeth cutting delectably into Faraday’s lip. Faraday whined at the sudden, sharp contact and returned the kiss with ferocity.

When he tried to raise his head, get back to moving, Vasquez followed him up. It shifted the angle and he slid a little deeper, rocking his hips and pulling Faraday closer with one arm around his waist, the other still tangled in his hair. They kissed filthy and open-mouth, Faraday making little, panting noises as he worked himself on Vasquez’s cock, thrust his own into the delicious friction between them. He did his best to keep their rhythm even though he felt the white-hot current of desire tugging at him, a few bare seconds out from pulling him under.

“I – ” he tried, swallowing desperately when the words caught in his throat. “I – you – ”

“Sí, sí,” Vasquez rumbled, driving his hips up with a hard snap that had Faraday keening. He pressed a kiss to Faraday’s temple. “Te entiendo. A mi también.”

He let himself fall forward, forehead against Vasquez’s shoulder, breathing in harsh bursts against his collarbone. Vasquez kissed him again, an absent press of lips dropped against Faraday’s hair, and reached between them, wrapping his hand around Faraday’s cock and giving it a few quick, hard tugs.

“Ah – ah – ” Faraday gasped, and he was drowning in that cresting wave, spending hot between them, Vasquez stroking him through to the end of it.

Vasquez thrust up once, twice more, and then his whole body clenched as he spent with a shudder. He took a few shaking breaths and wiped Faraday’s spend from his hand on the far edge of the sheet, nosing gently at Faraday’s temple. Faraday, his whole body loose like taffy, mind still hazy, obligingly turned his face, sighing into it when Vasquez kissed him long and slow.

Vasquez ran a hand absently up and down Faraday’s back, kissing his cheek and his forehead and his throat before tilting his mouth up again. After a few lingering kisses he grinned against Faraday’s mouth, and said slyly, “I like you like this.”

Faraday arched an eyebrow and snorted.

“What, lazy? Tired?”

“Happy,” Vasquez corrected, leaning in to steal a kiss when Faraday opened his mouth to protest. “You are a bad liar, guerito,” he reminded with a smirk. Faraday rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he said grudgingly. “Just don’t tell anyone, I guess.”

Vasquez smiled wide, delighted in a way that chased off the wary edge of a man who’d spent years living on the run. He kissed Faraday again, dipping in once, twice, three times, until Faraday groaned dramatically and leaned away.

“I take it back,” he grumbled, but Vasquez shook his head, still smiling.

“Too late,” he said brightly.

Faraday set to extricating himself from Vasquez’s lap, cringing a little at the mess and digging around on the side of the bed for a spare scrap of clothing to mop it up with. Once freed from beneath him, Vasquez flopped back onto the mattress, boneless, with his arms above his head, the entirety of his lean body on display.

Faraday gave it an appraising glance and then dropped down beside him, angling his leg out so that their knees were pressed together. Vasquez glanced over and gave him a long, considering look, some of the giddy joy in him fading.

“What?” Faraday asked. Vasquez made a face, thoughtful and a little hesitant.

“I – ” he started, and then seemed to reconsider. He shook his head, a tiny burst of motion, and moved one of his arms down, nudging and prodding until Faraday was tucked under the curve of his shoulder, lying half on top of him with Vasquez’s cheek against his forehead.

“I can still hear you thinking, you know,” Faraday grumbled a few minutes later, eyes closed, drifting muzzily toward sleep while Vasquez ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s not important,” he said, with a forced levity that suggested precisely the opposite. Faraday cracked an eye and glanced up at him.

“You certain?”

Vasquez nodded and kissed Faraday’s forehead.

Faraday sighed and settled down against him, adding grudgingly, “Funny that I don’t believe you even a little bit.”

Vasquez huffed a laugh.

“I was going to say, next time, we can switch,” he offered, teasingly. A little bolt of want punched through Faraday’s sternum, a cold wash of sorrow bounding at its heels.

Next time, he thought bitterly, as though they weren’t both likely to die in a hale of gunfire and foolish bravery come morning. Faraday pressed a little closer, folded his arm up so that it was lying on Vasquez’s chest. He ran his thumb back and forth a few times across Vasquez’s skin, marveled at the distant thud where his pulse resonated up through Faraday’s fingertips.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said quietly, gently. Vasquez reached up with the arm he didn’t have curled around Faraday’s shoulders, raising Faraday’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Get some sleep, guero,” he murmured. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” Faraday sighed, swallowing thickly. A sharp chill settled just beneath the tantalizing heat lingering between them. “We do.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _Choke this love 'til the veins start to shiver._  
_One last breath 'til the tears start wither._  
_Like a river, like a river,_  
_Shut your mouth and run me like a river._

**Author's Note:**

>  **Me gustaría que me dejarías decirte:** I wish that you would let me tell you  
>  **Creo que ayudaría:** I think it would help  
>  **Querido:** An affectionate diminutive equivalent to “dearest”  
>  **Cual sería el divertido en eso?:** What would be the fun in that?  
>  **No vayas:** Don’t go  
>  **Quedaté conmigo:** Stay with me  
>  **Guero:** a once pejorative term for a light-skinned person that Faraday and Vasquez have co-opted as a term of endearment  
>  **Eres bonito, querido:** You’re beautiful, querido  
>  **Tan bonito:** So beautiful  
>  **Maldita:** Damn  
>  **Te entiendo:** I understand you  
>  **A mi también:** Me too

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Holy Hands, Oh They Make Me a Sinner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473657) by [MistMarauder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistMarauder/pseuds/MistMarauder)




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